Strike of Two
by T.L. Arens
Summary: Optimus ponders his reasons to keep fighting.


At The Strike of Two

Two A.M. Fourteen Autobots lay dead. Kup and Onsight lined the bodies along the far wall in the busy infirmary. Survivors approached each body to wish them farewell with renewed promises to keep fighting. Sunstreaker, Toolbit and Twosides poured a few precious drops of energon on Canopus' colorless form. They were supposed to hold a friendly game of pyramids later on.

Two A.M. Optimus inventoried weapons and provisions because keeping busy kept him from thinking of other things. Yes, they won the battle. Yes, they saved six civilians. But the price for each battle grew either in bodies, territory or morale. Today it was all three. He did not berate Sunstreaker when the Autobot warrior stomped around, snarled and demanded answers as to why they kept fighting. He did not meet Sideswipe's accusatory glances.

As Kup ordered the twins out on watch, Optimus found himself repeating Sunstreaker's questions: What were they doing all this for? Why not just let the Decepticons have what they wanted?

Optimus stripped sixteen damaged weapons of useable parts and tossed the rest for scrap. He catalogued everything and made sure the list was as random as possible to give Magnus something to vent over rather than take his frustrations out on the troops.

He did not pay attention to Ironhide's expose. All the reasons to keep fighting didn't seem to apply anymore. Nor was Optimus interested in Bumblebee's attempt to cheer everyone up. Two days ago Optimus himself lost someone he deeply cared about.

Again.

With all the weapons checked, stripped, cleaned and/or repaired, all that remained was much needed rest. But shutdown evaded the Autobot leader. He did not care that he hadn't rested in six days. He did not care that lack of rest or energon threatened to affect his job. Prime was aware of his mood and he removed himself from the rest of his staff and troops to prevent the spread of despondency.

Two A.M. He stepped onto an upper room balcony and stared across the sleeping city. When was the last time he spent a few hours with Elita? When was the last time he took time off at all? When was the last time he laughed?

Trion said that negotiating with Megatron might give the Autobots time to breathe before the Decepticons broke another treaty.

Optimus disagreed and Trion publicized Prime's notions to the rest of the Autobot army. The elder Autobot smeared Prime's 'politically incorrect' assessment among the army commanders. However, his attempts to discredit the Autobot leader held no sway.

Only three Autobot soldiers took Trion at his word and abandoned the cause. The rest merely asked questions or held doubts that Optimus was wrong to disagree with the political figure. Yes, he was responsible to lead the army into battle with as few casualties as possible. Yes, Optimus Prime made several mistakes. But on the whole, they still held ground at Iaacon, Tricallis and Thaytus Polar.

No one dared challenge Alpha Trion's opinions. After all, he was the Father Supreme. But the army's loyalty lay with Optimus and that alone gave the young Prime reason to keep going. After all, weren't they fighting for a just cause?

Wasn't there supposed to be a reason for the day-to-day fight for survival? Wasn't there ultimately a reason to push forward when hopelessness prevailed at every turn?

If not, if futility was all they'd ever face in life, then they needed to stop.

As Optimus stared across the horizon, city lights flickered to life. Three Autobots flew over the city on business or other errands. Maybe they were all going to be dead later today or tomorrow or the week after. Maybe they fought to delay the inevitable. And that being the case, perhaps every single Autobot should just lie down and terminate.

End the violence. End the grief and despair. There'd be no more sorrow. No more pain or hunger. No need for revenge or the pursuit for justice. There'd only be death, Decepticons and the end of futility.

There'd only be Decepticons.

That meant only evil remained; no one to stand between the 'cons and their potential victims.

How many planets had the 'cons conquered over the thousands of years? How many of those same planets died, devoid of ability to sustain life?

Optimus thought about Planet Sorsequis. It took three years of hard work. Thirty-nine Autobots died for the cause. But the people on Sorsequis continue to exist because the Autobots came to their rescue.

The city lights brightened as the day started anew. Traffic increased. Citizens went about their daily lives. Optimus searched the dark canopy of space. Out there, hundreds of worlds, scarred by Decepticon invasion, survived because the Autobots were willing to fight.

That was why they kept fighting. That was why Optimus kept fighting one day, one hour, one minute to the next. Someone had to. Someone had to take on the responsibility of action and decisions, good and bad so that someone else remained free to live their lives.

Could Optimus himself walk away from it all? Could he just walk out and live his own life? Yes. Yet, something deep inside the Autobot leader screamed that he couldn't stay away for long. He was built to fight. He was destined to take care of his people. Doing anything else-or less- meant betraying the trust and needs of a struggling society. Optimus fought and pushed forward not just because it was his destiny, but because he had the strength and the drive to do so.

The balcony door slid open and Ironhide peeked round its ledge. "Hey, Priam," he said softly. "That new kid, Bluestreak? Looks like he's gonna make it after all."

A smile touched Prime's optics. That's _thirteen_ dead Autobots; thirteen who gave their lives and one who decided it wasn't time to give up and die yet.

"Thank you, Ironhide. Notify Prowl. We have some planning to do."

End.


End file.
